<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Bûche de Noël by Xirayn</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406874">Bûche de Noël</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xirayn/pseuds/Xirayn'>Xirayn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Holidays, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:55:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xirayn/pseuds/Xirayn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He yelps when Keith dumps snow on him. It melts down the back of his suit, but it’s worth it for the sound of Keith’s laugh. Lance lunges, trying to get the visor on Keith’s helmet down so that he can retaliate. His actions set off a bout of wrestling that ends with Lance over Keith, a handful of snow ready. Their faces are flushed and they are laughing and it is so dangerous. Dangerous because Lance’s heart is doing somersaults as he stares down at Keith. He rubs snow in his former rival’s face with a smirk before standing up.</p><p>There is no denying that Lance has fallen in love with Keith. It’s one of those facts that he conceals behind bad jokes and false confidence. Because Keith is the head of Voltron and there is a reason the Garrison frowns on relationships between commanding officers and their crew. It just creates problems.</p><p>Or it would be perfectly fine and Lance just likes having an excuse to not open himself up to a rejection that would actually mean something.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bûche de Noël</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lance’s feet crunch in the snow as he runs. He reaches down to scoop up a handful to form into a ball. A quick turn has it sailing behind him. His aim is just slightly off so not only does he just miss his target, but trips himself up and lands with a soft ‘ploof’ in a snowbank. He can’t stop laughing as his pursuer looms over him and their shadow blocks out the sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So much for the cool ninja sharpshooter,” Keith says in a voice that is far too fond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance smiles dopily up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Throwing is different from shooting,” he defends. He reaches a hand up and when Keith takes it, Lance pulls him down into the snow. He has to sit up to see Keith over the edge of the imprint he made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re supposed to be looking for- what was it? Boochdenoel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bûche de Noël,” Lance corrects, the fact Keith hasn’t seen past the very blatant lie that was their mission adding to his giddiness. He falls back into the snow and puts up his visor so he can fill his lungs with the crisp air and feel the fluffy flakes on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The habitable part of Zorom is a winter wonderland, perfectly situated between the blistering hot light side and deathly cold dark side. They had just freed the inhabitants, fuzzy little insectoids with large eyes, from the Galra and during the celebration, Hunk had remarked on how much he was reminded of winter holiday tradition back on Earth. Looking around, it was obvious. The trees looked to be some sort of evergreen that grew colorful cones that had a natural bioluminescence. The snow was actual snow in a fluffy, perfect form. The market was full of sugary treats laden with spices reminiscent of cinnamon and nutmeg. Lights lined every structure to illuminate the darkness of the long nights that were actually when the Zorom were most active to avoid the bright sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk’s observation had started off a round of reminiscing that was abruptly stopped by Keith’s dismissive admission that he hadn’t celebrated any holiday since his dad had died. He excused himself shortly after seeing how his teammates stilled and the joy fell from their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pidge had then chewed her lip in the way she did when she plotted. A similar idea was already forming in Lance’s mind. Hunk had beat them to it, though, stating resolutely that they needed to give Keith a holiday celebration. Allura and Coran jumped on the idea to learn more about Earth culture. So they came up with a fake mission for Lance to occupy Keith with while everyone else decorated and prepared a feast. Fortunately, Keith tended to be a bit gullible when it came to people he trusted as implicitly as he did his team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not urgent,” Lance assures, “and we’ve got plenty of time. Let me just play in the snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yelps when Keith dumps snow on him. It melts down the back of his suit, but it’s worth it for the sound of Keith’s laugh. Lance lunges, trying to get the visor on Keith’s helmet down so that he can retaliate. His actions set off a bout of wrestling that ends with Lance over Keith, a handful of snow ready. Their faces are flushed and they are laughing and it is so dangerous. Dangerous because Lance’s heart is doing somersaults as he stares down at Keith. He rubs snow in his former rival’s face with a smirk before standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no denying that Lance has fallen in love with Keith. It’s one of those facts that he conceals behind bad jokes and false confidence. Because Keith is the head of Voltron and there is a reason the Garrison frowns on relationships between commanding officers and their crew. It just creates problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or it would be perfectly fine and Lance just likes having an excuse to not open himself up to a rejection that would actually mean something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance scoffs at Keith’s outstretched hand. “I’m not falling for my own trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance shakes his head and continues down the path. The calls of the native creatures sound like silvery bells chiming a melody through the trees. In the sunlight, the bioluminescent cones sparkled a rainbow of colors. Lance found himself humming what he imagined was the chorus line to the creature's song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have a nice voice," Keith says before quickly tacking on, "What does this Boosh de Noelle look like?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bûche de Noël," Lance corrects once again. He enjoys language; likes how fluid it is and how different words feel in his mouth. It's like a puzzle that reveals how a group of people see the world and themselves. He is also very amused at how Keith hasn't picked up on the obvious ruse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever. Just tell me what we are actually looking for."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a good question that Lance doesn't have a solid answer to. He's pretty good at improv, though. It just needs to be something believable that they aren't actually able to find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A log from one of these trees that has fallen," he says, deciding to use a grain of truth. "Coran said they grow a fungus that becomes bioluminescent from the nutrients of the tree or something. He needs it for one of his sciencey things."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shouldn't we be looking in the trees instead of staying on the path, then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Man, that snow is deep. I don't really want to go trudging through it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'd rather just play in it until we can tell Coran we didn't find anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He said it wasn't urgent," Lance defends because even if that was exactly his plan since the thing didn't exist, the implications still stung. He added the lie, "And I'm scanning for the signature Coran gave me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stalks off with his previously joyous mood soured by Keith’s accusation. He thought becoming the right hand of Voltron would have at least earned him some respect. Apparently even with only six people on the team, though, he was still the seventh wheel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith catches up to him with a companionable shoulder bump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," he starts. His voice is tentative like he's prodding a wound to see if it's as bad as it appears. "I didn't mean it like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," Lance dismisses. He reminds himself that today is for Keith. He just needs a moment then he'll put the smile back on and get over himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I just-" Keith grabs Lance’s hand, making him stop and turn to him. "I'm sorry. You just always seem like you're having fun."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "So you think I don't take missions seriously."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s brows pinched together. "No! I think you- You make it look easy. We're saving the Universe and there is so much pressure on us, but you still have fun. You make sure we still have fun… even if it's at your expense."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Glad to be of service."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance goes to walk away, but Keith grabs the crook of his arm. He doesn't let go. Lance doesn't pull away. Their eyes meet and Keith is pleading for Lance to see something he doesn't have the words for. Lance isn't sure exactly what that is; isn't sure he wants to know even as he longs to hear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You do more to keep the team together than you realize," Keith finally says, voice as calm and still as the snow around them, "to keep me together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright, man, I get it." Lance pulls away before this becomes something it shouldn't. Or maybe it should. He doesn't really know anymore, but fighting it has just become the default. "You appreciate me. Let's just find this log."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nods and lets Lance go. Thoughts of what would happen if he didn't drift between them with silent poignancy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know," Keith starts slowly. "I think our shields might make pretty good sleds. I bet I can go faster than you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance looks back with a raised eyebrow. "Are you challenging me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smirk pulls at the corner of Keith's mouth. "Yeah, I think I am."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luck is on their side as the path splits, one fork leading deeper into the forest while the other curves along a gully with sides the perfect angle. A cocky grin meeting a spark of mischief is all it takes to launch them down the slope. Lance whoops as he speeds over the snow. Keith is laughing. It is a dangerous sound for the way it makes Lance's heart leap in a way he blames on the adrenaline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They collide at the bottom in a tangle of limbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I win!" Lance crows with no evidence to support his claim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith just pushes Lance off him and scrambles back up the hill. Lance is right behind him. Always right behind him, but that's no longer a bad thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the next go down, Lance tries snowboarding. He has experience. Growing up, his family had gone to the mountains up north yearly. He and his siblings would spend their days trying to outdo one another on the slopes then sit around the fire making tall tales out of the few tricks they managed to land. None of them were any better than their surfing experience that translated more in concept than practice allowed them to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither experience translated well to a shield that was never meant for such escapades.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What are you doing?" Keith asks when Lance is done rolling down the slope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Trying to impress you with my sick skills."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, stop it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance does, but only because it isn't working. He's not sure if he means the attempts at snowboarding or impressing Keith. Maybe both. He flops back to make a lazy snow angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I saw aliens before I saw snow," Keith muses softly as he sits and watches the flakes drift in the air. "It really does glitter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Almost like it's made of water crystals."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grins at Keith who rolls his eyes. A handful of snow hits Lance in the face shortly after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trails left by the snow sliding down Lance’s visor don’t prevent him from catching the fond look that softens Keith’s features. It is a look that he is growing accustomed to catching; wants to be able to openly return. Maybe he could if he was brave or selfish enough to just lean in and see if Keith would meet him halfway. Even just the inevitable bump of their helmets would be enough to topple the tower of excuses stacked precariously between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up; admires the angelesque imprint rather than risking thought turning into action. Keith moves to stand next to him. Even through the armor and the cold air between them, Lance can feel him like a magnet being pulled to its opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should make one," Lance decides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why? You already made one," Keith points out, "and no one is going to see it out here. I don't see the point."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not everything needs a point."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith opens his mouth to protest then quickly closes it. His jaw works as he tries to formulate a response that won't just lead them into a loop. Lance waits patiently with a slight smirk that automatically counters any argument before it is said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why do it if there isn't a point?" Keith finally says, throwing his hands out in exasperation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s heart is speaking before his brain can sign off on any of the words leaving his mouth. "For the memory of doing it because our lives are crazy and I'd rather you remember me as your friend who you make snow angels with than your second in command."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the resulting silence, Lance realizes he said the quiet part out loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s hands are heavy on Lance’s shoulders in the best possible way. An unsaid truth burns in his eyes. Lance can see it like sailors see maps in the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lance," he starts and his voice is steady, but laced with the gravitas of a vow, "you will always be more to me than my second in command. I don't need a snow angel to remember that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance can't help himself. He leans in. Keith meets him. Their helmets touch with a soft tap that seals Lance’s fate. He closes his eyes; just feels. In the back of his mind he wonders when Keith took his hand or if he was the one to initiate the contact. It doesn't matter. Even though it is just a loose tangling of fingers, it is everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to be more than friends," Keith admits. It's barely a whisper, might have been lost except for the comm units in their helmets. It delivers the words right to Lance’s ear and the only thing missing is how Keith would have to press into his space and the warmth of his breath on Lance’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So do I."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cold bites at Lance's nose and the tips of his ears when Keith removes his helmet. It is discarded onto the snow angel, blue shortly followed by red. Then Keith is the one leaning in and this time Lance meets him. Keith's lips are so warm; inviting and dangerous all at the same time, like a bonfire blazing amongst the snow. The tentative touch of their lips melts into something bolder, an exchange of feelings and thoughts they aren't ready to say yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This could be bad," Keith murmurs having barely pulled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Or it could be wonderful, " Lance counters. He doesn't need Keith to clarify what he means by bad. The ruins of their tower of excuses is scattered about them in piles of concerns and what ifs, but Lance can't bring himself to care. His wants have already become needs incapable of being ignored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Keith smiles and there is the faintest laugh in his voice. "It could be."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance’s free hand comes up to caress Keith's cheek. He thrills at the ability to touch so intimately yet so casually. It's a high he hopes to never come down from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It will be," he speaks hoping to give truth to his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It will," Keith agrees. They'll make it wonderful; put in the work needed to keep each other close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips meet again and Lance laments the chest armor keeping him from pulling Keith as close as he wants to. He wants to just wrap himself up in the other Paladin; drink up the heat of his body and the solidness of his frame. It is something he has dreamed of that is now just out of his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just tell Coran we couldn’t find any of that bootch denole or whatever,” Keith suggests after his lips are kissed red and his cheeks are rosy from more than the cold. “Go back to the Castle and warm up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last two words hang meaningfully in the air and Lance wants to say yes, but only the pretense of his mission is false. The others are counting on him so they can do something special and ‘distract Keith’ probably didn’t mean go make out with him. Unless…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a tempting idea, but he should probably stick to keeping Keith away from the Castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who isn’t taking the mission seriously?” he teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frosty breath puffs into the air as Keith lets out a heavy sigh. There is a petulant edge to his voice when he asks, "What science thing does he even want it for?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance briefly considers contriving some reason and ultimately decides it isn't worth it. It made more sense for him not to remember, anyway. Coran’s explanations were notoriously long-winded and difficult to parse. Between the tangents and the stories, Lance normally just trusted that what he was being told to do had some valid purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know," he lies with an easy shrug. "Maybe it's actually a food thing. I mean, if it was something really important he probably would have told the whole team. I was just told to find the mushroom log and bring you because of the buddy system or whatever."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands had come to rest on Keith’s waist, whose arms were looped loosely around Lance's neck. Lance went for another kiss just because he could and the tight line of Keith’s lips was somehow asking for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what,” he offers after pulling back, “let’s build a snowman then walk around a little more. If we don’t find it, we figure it went extinct sometime in the last ten thousand years and head back to the ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A snowman?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or snow-whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They keep their helmets off while they build what passes as a snowman. Neither of them is the best sculptor and obviously have other things on their mind as they seek out any casual contact they can. A kiss to a cold cheek. Hair brushed back. Lips touching whenever the opportunity presents itself. It’s hesitant at first, a dance of silently testing boundaries, but by the time they place the last detail Lance’s arm is snaking around Keith’s waist and the slightest weight presses into his side as if it is the most natural thing in the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Lance states, “it certainly gives the idea of a snowman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to knock it down?” Keith asks and Lance laughs because there is something so Keith about that suggestion. They pelt it with some snowballs before Lance attempts a jump kick and Keith shows him how it is actually done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lance raises his arms in victory. “The snow beast is defeated!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We truly are a good team,” Keith adds with a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They leave their pile of snow behind to make their way back to the Castle. Lance doesn’t even pretend to look for the object of their fake mission. Instead, he focuses completely on Keith because this has become a date and that is absolutely fine. Keith’s hand is in his and he’s looking at Lance with that soft fondness that Lance can finally openly return. He’s already jumped so he’s at least going to enjoy the fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, serious question,” he says as the Castle begins to loom over them, “are we telling the others or do we just see how things go first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think we need to do a team meeting, but I also don’t think we should hide anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So just do whatever and let them figure it out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m down with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naturally, the rest of the team has other plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They change into their regular clothes and Lance makes the excuse of having to tell Coran they didn’t find anything to lead Keith to the lounge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors open to gleeful shouts accompanying a scene that leaves Keith in stunned silence with what might be tears shining in his eyes. The room is decked out in red and gold accented by twinkling lights and what passes as evergreen. A feast sprawls across the table. There are even presents piled under a tree ladened with lights and ornaments. Lance is about to step forward and praise everyone’s work when his friends exchange conspiring glances and Pidge points up looking far too smug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not mistletoe, but it is a pretty good substitution with a clear purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any hesitation, Lance pulls Keith tight against him and claims his lips to the gasps and joyous shouts of their team.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>